


Elaborate Lives

by Meddalarksen



Category: Inception (2010), The Avengers (2012), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Chapter specific warnings included in chapter summaries, F/M, Gen, Let me know if there is something further I should warn for in a given chapter, M/M, Please heed chapter warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots based on single word prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik pre-beach
> 
> 1\. Kiss--X-Men First Class  
> 2\. Belfry--X-Men Movies  
> 3\. Backbone--X-Men  
> 4\. Fear--Inception  
> 5\. Mythology--Avengers  
> 6\. Winter--X-Men  
> 7\. Dawn--X-Men  
> 8\. Blood--X-Men  
> 9\. Autumn--X-Men  
> 10\. Motorcycle--X-Men  
> 11\. Catacombs--X-Men  
> 12\. Time--X-Men  
> 13\. Husks--X-Men  
> 14\. February--Inception  
> 15\. Disenchantment--X-Men  
> 16\. History--X-Men  
> 17\. Love--Inception

Charles propped his chin on his hand, watching Erik’s lips move, adding an appropriate “mhm” where he thought it might be needed.  He hadn’t heard a word the other man had said for the last five or so minutes, fascinated with the way Erik’s tongue flickered over his teeth and lips as he spoke.  The telepath’s blue eyes traced the outline of Erik’s lips and he could feel his mind slipping away into a daydream of what they must taste like.  Brandy probably, his gaze flickered to the glass by Erik’s side, and something decidedly all Erik Lehnsherr. 

He was snapped out of his fantasy when the German cleared his throat.  His eyes flicked up to meet Erik’s, widened slightly and hoping he hadn’t been caught out.  The smile that tugged at his chess opponent’s lips—no mustn’t think about those—was enigmatic and didn’t answer his question in the least.  “Yes?”

“Where is your mind, my friend?  I seem to have lost your attention.”  That infuriating smirk kept the left corner quirked.

Charles shrugged, moving a rook, “There you’re quite mistaken.  You’ve had it all this time.”


	2. Belfry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt Wagner--X-Men 2
> 
> Warnings: self-hatred, suicidal/self-destructive thought processes

Eyes closed, with his toes curled around the rafters of the defaced place of worship, the man ran his thick fingers over the beads of his rosary, murmuring the prayers under his breath.  He couldn’t sleep, every time he tried he heard gunfire and saw death.  He kept seeing the same images over and over again, but he could make no sense of them.  He had tried to stop it, of that he was certain, but he had remained powerless until the last second when he met the terrified eyes of a man pinned to a desk.  There were indications that the man was the President of the United States.  He wasn’t sure if he was grateful he had come to himself before he had finished whatever he was supposed to have been doing, or if he should regret it and the fact that he was still breathing because of that. He opened his eyes, tipping his head back far enough to look up toward where he expected to see a tower if this church had been built with one—it hadn’t.  Tipping back further, he closed his golden eyes again and let go, falling from the beam.  His body twisted in midair into a graceful, automatic flip and he landed lightly in a crouch.  Eyes opening again he reminded himself that he had survived and would keep doing so until it was his time.  Even if he wasn’t certain he wanted to.


	3. Backbone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt Wagner--general X-Men

Language was one of the things which Kurt always felt he used too often without ever knowing what it really meant.  English had one word for love, which he found questionable both for practical reasons and because the romantic in him bucked against the idea.  Even words that had one technical meaning could mean something entirely different in the right context.  It had initially thrown him off when he was learning the language and then he had been immersed in the slang and phrases chosen by people at the school and then in New York.  Things that were an insult figuratively seemed like they could be practical in certain situations.  After all, when one was the most flexible acrobat in the circus apparent spinelessness couldn’t be seen as a bad thing.


	4. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur--Inception  
> Warnings: Violence, gunfire

Arthur pressed his back against the wall of the warehouse office, his gun at the ready.  His hands were steady and his mind clear, but the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the heartbeat that pounded faster than normal beneath his ribs belied his calm.  It was one thing to be pursued like this in a dream where, though the pain seemed real, a death meant waking up.  It was something else entirely in the waking world where the pain was real and the death was too.

Checking his gun and chambering a round while he verified he had another clip, the point man risked a glance from the office window and felt his throat catch.  There was a three story drop to pavement below.  The only other exit was clear across the warehouse floor.  He was trapped unless he wanted to risk a bloody death from that second option.  Arthur weighed the choices and started to open the office door to take the second choice, but the door was almost immediately hit with a hail of bullets.

Swearing, he blockaded the door again and returned to the window where he started to jimmy it open.  His primary safe house was compromised and so was his current name.  Getting the window open, he finally saw a tremor in his hand.  The people after him started pounding on the door and he drew a deep breath.  Arthur had a cool, unconcerned air when being shot at, but heights were enough to create something he could only just identify as fear.  Another sound at the door as the lock broke made his decision for him and he leaped—rolling as he hit the ground and running as soon as he was on his feet.

It was time to find a new hide-hole and warn Eames that they were compromised.  Holstering his weapon and ducking into the first store he thought a likely chance he paid cash for a burner phone and exited, ruffling his hair and regretfully pitching his jacket and tie into a nearby trashcan.  He rolled up his sleeves and undid his top button as he walked, ripping into the package of the phone and finally getting it out, dumping the packaging at the next bin.  He called Eames and left a swift message: “Charles Darrow is dead, contacting James Williamson.”  He wiped prints off the phone and pitched it after pulling the battery and card within it, the battery disappearing down an alleyway and the card sliding into his pocket as he tried to figure out where everything had gone to hell.


	5. Mythology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki--non-specific time post Avengers

Picking up yet another book from the store shelf, the tall man turned it over before thumbing through it, looking for something specific within its pages.  Frowning and replacing it, he picked up its neighbor and sought it again.  His lips curved upward very slightly, but the book joined its partner and he picked up the last one on the topic he sought.  He dragged his thumb along the edge of the pages, pausing on a color plate of what looked like two men dressed in bridal clothes and tipped his head back and laughed, the sound far closer to malicious than pleasurable as he snapped the book shut and swept toward the counter.  It was worth paying the mortals for the art of his brother dressed as Freya.


	6. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General X-Men
> 
> Can be read as Kurt/Ororo but can be seen as general/friendship too.
> 
> Warnings: Pitching oneself off of the top of buildings--no self-harm intended

Kurt perched himself on the roof of the mansion, a snowball held loosely in his right hand.  He was highly visible to anyone looking, and if he had been down on the ground it would have been even more apparent.  His dark fur, so useful in shadows, was a downside in this weather.  He weighed the projectile and knew he’d only get one shot, watching patiently until he saw his target emerge from the mansion.  She got a handful of steps and sensed something, starting to turn and he dove from the roof, knowing where he was headed.  He performed an elegant flip, pitching the snowball at Ororo as she threw up a wind that kicked up enough snow to slow it down.  Vanishing before she could retaliate, Kurt appeared over an especially deep snowdrift and completed his fall.  Ororo offered him an exasperated look and then a smile before sending her winds crashing into the branch over his head and sending the snow sliding off of it onto his head.  The teleporter came up grinning and sputtering and laughing. This was ideal.  With the promise of a warm fire and hot drinks waiting for them inside, they commenced an impromptu snowball fight with relish, reveling in the sheer pleasure of it.


	7. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt Wagner--General X-Men
> 
> One-sided Kurt/Logan
> 
> Warnings: implications of thoughts of self-harm

Kurt pushed open his east-facing window and perched himself on the wide sill.  It probably wasn’t meant to be sat on, but he didn’t much care.  His gaze drifted to where the horizon was slowly growing lighter—the pale grey as the sun’s early rays began to dissipate yet another night.  Drawing a deep breath he looked down, considering the three-story drop before pulling his gaze away from it to watch as the sky turned golden with the rising sun.  It was a rare day that he missed the sunrise, waking at least an hour before the first rays touched the sky from dreams—of which the good ones were just as bad as the nightmares. 

Good dreams were just reminders of what he had once had or of that which he could never hope to have.  The only consistent thing from good dream to nightmare was black hair, though the person beneath that hair changed frequently.  Nightmares could be the sound of a neck snapping in a wooded glade, or the image of a body falling, heart ripped from the chest.  Good dreams varied from a crackling campfire and three laughing children to two men engaged in more adult pleasures.  He sighed again, last night had been one of the latter and he almost preferred the snapped neck to the imagined feel of his fur brushing against warm skin and the light of desire in the other man’s eyes.  It always made it that much harder to face his teammate the next day.


	8. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General X-Men
> 
> Alex/Hank
> 
> Warnings: chapter title says it all

There was red everywhere, seeping into his suit and staining it, covering his hands and he swore they would never be clean again.  It didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered if he couldn’t stop the blood that was pouring from the wound and matting the thick, silky, blue fur around it. There was too much of it, he could feel it drying on the back of his hands and he pressed harder on the wound, not hearing anything but his own ragged breathing.  He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t lose the other—he wasn’t strong enough for that.  Then the rest of their team was there and he was being pulled back no matter how much he fought.

Alex snapped awake, his breathing ragged as he looked around frantically.  He was in the room he and Hank shared and he couldn’t understand why.  He was out of bed and out the door before he registered he was missing his shirt.  It didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered as he bolted through the halls, nearly sliding down the bannister in his rush for the main floor. 

He skidded to a stop out of necessity as he waited for the lift to the subbasements.  He slammed his way into the elevator and rode it down.  Stepping out of the compartment he looked around frantically, trying to determine if he wanted to check the lab in the hope that it had just been a dream or if he needed to go the other way because he knew it wasn’t.  The hesitation was enough to make his decision and he careened down the corridor to the medical bay, sliding in and coming to a halt.  Hank lay very still, surrounded by machines as they tried to keep him stable.  He must have lost more blood than Alex had thought.  Moving over and sinking down in the chair by the bed, Alex slid his hand under Hank’s, looking to the transfusion bag and unable to do more than rest his forehead against the bed and hope against hope that everything would be alright.


	9. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex--General X-Men

Leaning with his back against one of the trees a half mile from the mansion, Alex closed his eyes and let himself just listen.  He could hear his heart beating, the birds singing, and the sounds of students laughing and yelping as they played catch or something on the main lawn.  He could feel the rough trunk behind him and the tickling of the grass beneath his hands.  The air was crisp, but the sun shone down on his face and he figured they had another month before they could expect any snow.  For now it was warm enough to still do this comfortably.  He would swear he could smell the hint of frost in the air and a breath of Hank’s scent from where he had roundly kissed his lover before retreating to the grounds that day.  It was strange, for how much he relied on his sight in accord with his power, he always felt more relaxed when he could close his eyes and let his other sensations take over.  He never could relax fully, though, for underneath all of the other things he could sense around him there was a throbbing that was never to be forgotten.  It hummed in his bones, pulsed in his chest, and heated the air around him so sometimes there was the slightest whiff of ozone in his vicinity.  He opened his eyes when he heard a step on the dried leaves several paces to his right.  It was a deliberate step to let him know the person was there and he smiled at the courtesy before opening his eyes and turning in that direction, waving to the other and inviting them over.  He’d had his time to himself and it was the sort of day that was meant to be shared.


	10. Motorcycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott--X-Men Movies
> 
> Note on relations: Because I will bend over backwards to pretend that X-Men: First Class is in the same world as the original three films, I've set Alex as Christopher Summers' younger brother rather than Scott's which makes him Scott's uncle.

Scott smoothed his hand over the body of his bike.  It was a beautiful machine, though he felt he was probably biased, having built it himself.  It had taken a long time and a lot of repressed emotions and memories poured into the labor, but he had taken over care for the fleet of vehicles from his uncle.  The motorcycle was the only one he had built, but there was pride to be taken in the whole garage.  He had been convinced that nothing would help him calm down after the first girl he’d loved had left, but when he’d gone to his uncle, Alex had simply handed him a wrench and taught him everything he knew. 

Years later he finally understood. 

Alex had explained that day but, in true Summers style, Scott had to figure it out himself.  He had needed something in his life he could control completely. He had a good façade going and had just about everyone fooled into thinking the only thing out of his grasp was his power, but the only time he felt like he understood anything was when he was in the heat of a battle, or up to his elbows in grease and car parts.  It helped him to forget how little hold he had over anything.  He couldn’t stop his teammates from getting injured, he couldn’t stop from having fights when his temper slipped—which it was doing with alarming regularity—and he couldn’t even guarantee to have control over how his power was used.  All it took was the removal of his visor, or a telepath to slip into his mind and he had no ability to stop it. 

Shaking his head, Scott tilted his head to one side and finally decided what upgrade he intended.  He probably wouldn’t ever need a bike that had what equated to a hyperdrive, but need wasn’t really why he worked on it, now was it?


	11. Catacombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott--X-Men (intended for movie!verse)

Scott sat under a tree a half mile from the mansion, his eyes closed and his mind turned inward.  He knew he wasn’t anywhere close to out of range of most of the telepaths in the school, but he was just far enough that he could pretend they wouldn’t be able to touch him. Stepping into the corridors of his mind, he tried to find the right door to deal with what he was wrestling with.  Striding past the smooth, clean lines of his most accessible thoughts and feelings, he opened a door to his left and entered a brick tunnel.  Weaving his way down in an ever present decent, he pulled the final door open and ducked under the dirt ceiling, having to bend to continue on foot, wooden boards causing his steps to echo.  He reached a tunnel that was little more than a concrete culvert and shimmied through it, stepping out into a circular cavern filled with natural architecture with droplets falling from stalactites and forming stalagmites in the pools beneath.  Drawing a deep breath and pushing through the cavern, Scott came to the other side and moved to his right, locating the small grate which he pulled aside and reached through.  He withdrew a small box and opened it, picking out the small thread he needed before replacing the box and retracing his steps to the entrance to the dirt tunnel. 

He entered the door opposite and found himself facing a dark undefined creature.  It seemed to take up the whole room and seeped toward the exit offered to it by the opened door.  Scott held up the golden string he had taken and the shadow backed off.  Closing the door and willing faint light to stay, he crossed to one of the walls and began weaving the thread back and forth midway across the room, confidence rising with each knot.  The shadows receded as his self-doubt shrunk away from his reminders of why he could do things, and the strengths he had.  When it was small enough to pick up he did so, closing his hand around it and returning to the clear cut, smooth walls of his central psyche.  He took the last door on the right and descended several levels of smooth walls to find the Box.  Opening it he pushed aside his hate for Stryker and his grief for his parents and pain at the loss of the first girl he thought he had loved.  Placing the self-doubt within he locked the Box again and returned to his mind’s surface.

Opening his eyes, he sighed at the shades of red he saw in once again, and he knew that a creature like self-doubt wouldn’t be locked away forever.  It was too ephemeral and would seep into any cracks he gave it.  But for the moment it was secured and he could do as had been asked of him.  He could lead the team he had been offered.


	12. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex--X-Men

Alex lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling over the bed he and Hank shared and listening to his lover’s even breathing.  It had been a year since he’d gotten back from the war and it felt like everything and yet nothing had changed.  He still had frequent nightmares, but he was able to not wake Hank with every single one of them finally.  That had taken months.  Sometimes it felt like a change in his breathing was enough to wake the scientist, and other nights Alex was pretty sure he could have a brass band in the room and the other wouldn’t stir.  Those nights tended to be after Hank had spent days in the lab with few breaks, and tonight was one of those.  Or he hoped it was.  Hank needed sleep and he always felt guilty when he woke him.  He moved slowly, reaching up to splay a hand over his own chest where his adapter rested when he was wearing it.  Closing his eyes and drawing a shaky breath he tried to calm himself from the memories that hung around him like a shroud.  He had faced his mortality and it had been almost too much for him.  It was one thing to enter dangerous situations here where he might have a chance to say goodbye, or would be surrounded by the people he cared most about and another to risk death in far off jungles. 

His hand shook and he could feel heat building up.  His power had been slipping again and he was pissed beyond belief about it.  It had taken so much work to get to where he was and to take what felt like a dozen steps backwards was disheartening.  The power was pressing against his skin with more force and he hurled himself out of the bed abruptly, knowing without looking that he’d woken Hank.  He snatched up the adapter and disappeared out of the room to the bunker.


	13. Husks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik--X-Men (First Class/Movie!Verse)

Charles absently picked up a hazelnut from the bowl and cracked the shell, frowning when it fell to pieces in his hand to reveal absolutely nothing inside.  Dumping the useless fragments into the container meant for them he tried not to muse on symbolism.  He was keeping a small part of his attention on the conversation around him, though his gaze kept drifting toward Erik and then toward the window as he tried another hazelnut.  This one wasn’t empty, but the meat inside was sour and very decidedly gone bad.  What happened when things passed their time?  His blue eyes moved to Erik again and he did his best to banish the thoughts.  He would accept what they had and it was always best not to question it.  They were growing more fragile again, if they had ever ceased to be so, and he felt like every step he took meant another one away from the man before him.  What they were together was slipping through his fingers and the harder he tried to hold it the faster it went.  Perhaps it was time to admit to himself what he had told Erik all those years before on the beach.  They truly did want different things.  No matter how empty that left them.


	14. February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur--Inception
> 
> Past Arthur/Ariadne
> 
> Note: this was an experiment with a different sort of Arthur than I tend to like to write (See chapter "Fear" for the way I usually perceive him)

Arthur had always been a little shaky on what did and did not constitute a relationship—which probably explained why he and Ariadne had only lasted a handful of months. They had made it through Christmas, everyone knew you gave gifts and had large meals for that holiday, and survived through January.  It was February that had tangled them up.  February 14th to be exact.  He didn’t understand the holiday and rather than fake it and use the traditions he knew of he expressed that fact.  She had said something about it being a day to express love for other people and he’d pointed out that it was rather morbid to use a day dedicated to a martyr for something like that.  They’d had a fight that somehow ended with her laughing until she cried over how ridiculous it was and they both decided a relationship of that sort wasn’t in the cards.

He hadn’t seen or really talked to her since, but he’d received a “Happy martyr who was killed for marrying people’s day!” text on February 14th.  He’d sent a reply that there was debate about the validity of that claim and received a command to never change, which he took to mean he was forgiven.


	15. Disenchantment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mystique: X-Men movies
> 
> AU post-X-Men: The Last Stand

Raven stood at the window of the room in the mansion she had grown up in that she now inhabited once again.  She held up one blue hand and focused hard, watching as the skin of her fingers rippled and paled.  Concentrating she forced the rest of her form to change.  The shape-shifter turned to look in a mirror across the room and curled her lip in disgust. Before her stood a perfectly normal woman in her mid-thirties. Her blonde hair flowed in soft waves down to her shoulders and her bright blue eyes were set above an aristocratic nose and beautiful lips.  Jaw tensing, Mystique strode over to the mirror, those sky blue eyes narrowing.  The reflection that glared back was what she would have looked like had she stayed and played happy family with Charles all those years before and she hated it.  That wasn’t who she was anymore.  Focusing on the eyes she let her natural yellow ones take their place, but found that her blue skin was showing on her cheekbones and swore. 

She would go around in her natural form if she could, but as she had been reminded more than once she was still technically a terrorist and if she couldn’t show that she could be part of society then there was a nice cell waiting somewhere for her.  Concentrating on her eyes again she changed them to a light brown.  It was just shy of hazel—even before the Cure and the need to relearn her power hazel had been a bitch.  Next she turned her attention to her physical shape and shaved off the pronounced curves until she stood there slender and athletic. Lengthening her nose and making it just a little too pointed to be considered pretty by most people, she smirked and thinned her lips as well.  Considering the reflection again the smirk dropped.  She looked far less like Charles’ sister, but the hair had to go.

Sharpening her features as she considered what to do about the golden tresses that she had used in different styles for years, the shape-shifter finally nodded.  Closing her eyes she pictured exactly what she wished for.  When she opened them again her hair had straightened and now came only to her chin.  Bangs rested against her forehead and the jet black hair was cut simply.  Next she turned her attention to the clothes this form would wear most often.  A semi-professional outfit of slacks and a royal blue shirt appeared along with dark-framed square glasses.  Tossing her head Mystique frowned at her reflection.  It would do for when she had to hide—something she had refused to do for years.  And now she was in hiding again, shuffled off into the mansion where she had been stuffed away out of sight of the world for too long.  It was too late to change that, though.  She looked the form over and then let it drop before pulling it back around her easily enough.


	16. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mystique--X-Men Movies
> 
> X2
> 
> Mention of past Azazel/Mystique

Mystique sat cross legged outside the tents, staring into the forest.  There were so many things wrong with the night.  She reached up and brushed over the three parallel scars on her stomach and frowned but brushed it aside.  It didn’t matter.  The man was attractive, but she’d seen attractive men before and dangerous ones.  Azazel had cost her more than she had been willing to pay at that time. Her golden gaze drifted to where “The Incredible Nightcrawler of the Munich Circus” had chosen to sleep and her eyes narrowed.  Azazel had cost more than she had ever anticipated.  To be asked why she didn’t hide, why she didn’t pretend to be “normal” by Nightcrawler made her want to strangle him.

Perhaps she wouldn’t have ever been mothering material, hell knew she never had much of an example in Sharon, but she would have done better than to leave her child to be raised in a circus, believing that the way to belong was to look like everybody else.  Not for the first time, she wished she had Azazel before her so she could break his goddamned neck and possibly skin him and leave him for any wandering predators.  She could be anyone she wanted, and yet no matter what happened she always came back to who she was.  She was Mystique.  She was a proficient shape-shifter.  She had been a mother.  She was a powerful woman who let no one dictate what she did.  And yet, her choices had been taken from her once and the results of that had ended with the child she would have trained to acceptance of himself asking her why she refused to be “normal.”  Normal was for the weak.  Normal was dangerous because normal could vanish.  Many years of experience had taught her that.


	17. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur--Inception
> 
> Working toward (one-sided) Arthur/Eames

Arthur frowned down at the files on their latest mark, feeling like something was off in his information.  He couldn’t send a team in without clear knowledge of what they would be facing.  He glanced up as someone entered and pulled his gaze quickly away from where Mr. Eames had entered their current base. The point man ignored the other’s presence as best as he could, which he had been finding more and more difficult over the jobs they had done with each other.  After this one he was going to be actively avoiding Eames.  Except that was what he had told himself the last six times.  There really was no forger who could compare in dreamshare.  Or that’s what he told himself, and whichever extractor he was working with.  It was true, but Arthur was just honest enough with himself to admit that it wasn’t his only reason.

He had been very careful to never be the dreamer when working with Eames within the last year.  He wasn’t certain what his subconscious would do with Eames himself in it. His mind ended up scattered when the other passed too close, or teased just long enough. He had done everything he could to reverse that, even going under  on his own a handful of times in the hope that he would be able to clear up what was going on.  The harder he tried, the worse his situation got, though.  He was well and truly lost to the irritating, insufferable, eye-sore wearing, forger.


End file.
